


Fathers.

by RedStarFiction



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 03:53:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5191205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedStarFiction/pseuds/RedStarFiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A piece surrounding Jamie and Brianna and Frank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fathers.

Jamie sat down on the steps of Lallybroch and bit into an apple. The juice ran down his chin but when he wiped it away his fingers were dry and his hand, when he looked at it, was whole and unmarked by the years. He smiled slightly to himself.  
*It is a dream then.*  
He thought, stretching his legs out as he waited for Claire, she always came to him in dreams and he doubted tonight would be any different. Jamie nodded to himself, as he had got older he became more aware of when he was dreaming, not so much in the nightmares of Jack Randall unfortunately, but regular dreams. He looked around the yard at the group of hens pecking at seeds or grubs in the drizzling rain. A figure rounded the corner and stepped through the gate and Jamie saw that it was not Claire; it was a man wearing odd clothes and a wide brimmed hat that Jamie recognised but could not place.  
As the stranger got closer, he looked up and his eyes locked with Jamie’s. Frank. Jamie sighed and stood up. He had seen the man in the background of a one of the square pictures Claire had brought him, which was why he had known the hat. What the Hell did the bastard want?  
Jamie stepped off of the door step and as his foot touched the ground they were no longer at Lallybroch but toe to toe in a church, the church Jamie and Claire had married in.  
Frank looked up at Jamie, a small smile touching the corner of his mouth, his eyes wide and contemptuous. Frank held out his hand to shake but Jamie couldn't bring himself to touch the man and recoiled. He was so very like Black Jack Randall that Jamie felt bile rise in his throat just looking at him.  
“I look a lot like him don’t I? My ancestor I mean.”  
Frank asked, his voice was alien to Jamie’s ears, not Black Jack’s voice. Frank’s was softer and a little deeper. Jamie had not heard it before and it sent goose-bumps skittering across his skin. How was he dreaming of Frank’s voice?  
“Aye, but ye dinna sound like him. I've seen a … photograph picture of ye, but I dinna ken how I know your voice.”  
Jamie looked around for Claire but she was nowhere near them. Jamie felt unease prickle down his spine.  
“Ah. You’re afraid. Is this merely a dream or is it purgatory? Are we both waiting for the same woman?”  
Frank’s smile widened and he stepped in close to Jamie once more.  
“Don’t worry James, you’re not dead yet and in the morning you will wake up and no doubt fuck our wife.”  
Jamie swung a fist but where Frank had been there was only air and the bastard was sat in the pew behind him.  
“I agree, that was callous of me, oafish even, but really? A punch? You tried to punch a dead man?”  
Frank was almost laughing at him and Jamie felt heat creep into his face.  
“What do ye want?”  
He asked, his teeth clenched and fists still balled at his side  
“I don’t want anything at all. You conjured me, or really I suppose it was Brianna…”  
Jamie saw his face soften at the mention of Brianna and released his fists, he crossed himself and murmured a brief Hail Mary before answering.  
“Brianna was tellin’ Jem about ye. I heard her.”  
“Yes. I suppose that must have been difficult for you. Claire spared me that at least. She never mentioned you to Brianna. Never spoke of you at all.”  
Jamie felt the words slice into him but pushed the feeling away. Spirits were not known for being kind, and Randall had less reason than most to be kind to him, spirit or not.  
“Aye, weel, ye’ve that then.”  
Jamie said softly and looked away. He was looking at the altar and thinking of Claire as she had been their wedding day, he could see her so clearly. The dress she wore and the way her cheeks flushed with the drink but her eyes had been clear, locked unwaveringly with his own and he thought he had never seen anything so lovely. He heard Frank sigh.  
“She loved you even then.”  
Jamie started and looked beside him, Frank was stood at his shoulder looking in the same direction as Jamie and clearly seeing what he was seeing.  
“Don’t look so shocked. Of course I can see her.”  
His voice was tight with longing and Jamie sighed,  
“What do ye want Frank?”  
Jamie asked again, though gently this time. The smaller man looked up at him, dislike plain across his features.  
“I truly don’t want anything from you. What do you want from me? I didn’t choose to be here.”  
Jamie thought for a moment, what did he want from the man?  
“I believe I wish to thank ye.”  
The words passed his lips before he knew he was going to say them and surprised them both.  
Frank had returned to looking wistfully at the image of Claire in her wedding gown but now the small smile returned and he cocked his head at Jamie  
“Why?”  
“For keeping them safe, for loving Brianna and raising her in my stead… she … she adored ye. Ye were a good father.”  
“And husband?”  
Jamie shrugged. He was dimly aware that the church had faded around them and that they were now on the ridge. They were surrounded by woodland and the trees rose above them blotting out most of the light but Jamie could sense it was Fraser’s Ridge all the same.  
“No. Ye were no’ a good husband. Ye were no’ cruel but Claire says ye laid wi’ other women…”  
Frank laughed at that, a warm, rich laugh; his head tipped back just the way Claire did. A habit he had picked up from her? Maybe she had learned it from him? Jamie felt jealousy stir in his gut and tried to force it away.  
“I was raising a red-haired, blue-eyed child who was taller than me by the time she was fourteen! Do you really think Claire has cause to complain?”  
Jamie smiled a little at that but shrugged. He could barely stand to think of Claire in terms of being another man's wife but he was damned if he would let the bastard see it rattled him.  
“She didna complain, but fact is fact and ye asked me if I considered ye a good husband. I dinna.”  
“Fair enough. I suppose I couldn’t really hold a candle to you could I? The warrior!”  
Frank’s voice dripped with sarcasm and he stretched his hands above his head and yawned.  
“I never held it against Brianna though. That child was … she was the sun and the moon to me. You took Claire from me … maybe that’s unfair… I should really say that Claire gave herself to you, but Brianna will always be mine. You know that.”  
Jamie felt pain like a grief swell in his chest but more muted than grief. It was like a stubbed toe when the initial hurt fades and is replaced with a pulsating ache that lingers for a while.  
“Maybe if she had not met Roger it would have been different, but you gave her away almost as soon as you found her…”  
Frank continued and Jamie’s palms begin to sweat.  
“Brianna is my daughter…”  
“By blood, of course. There is no denying it! Even if she was the image of Claire physically she has your temper, your theatrical nature and let’s not forget her stubbornness. The girl is undoubtedly your daughter. But that doesn’t change the fact that in her heart, I am her father. I could tell you so many little things about her that you will never know …”  
“Shut ye damn mouth.”  
“Is it me or is this just your mind filling you in on the things you already know?”  
“I ken her better than ye think.”  
“Maybe, but not as well as I do.”  
Frank placed a hand on Jamie’s arm and it was disturbingly solid. Jamie tried to shake him off but he only gripped harder, shaking Jamie.  
“What does she even call you? Da? Da?”  
“DA!”  
Jamie jerked upright and gulped for air as though he had been drowning. Bree knelt beside the bed, her hand still on his arm.  
“Da, it’s alright. It was a dream, whatever it was, it was just a dream.”  
Jamie’s ran a hand over his face to chase away the last gossamer threads of sleep tying him to the dream and focussed his eyes on his daughter. His chest was heaving and he had to stop himself seizing her in an embrace. Swinging his legs out of bed he pulled the blanked over his lap for modesty and braced his elbows on his knees.  
“I’m sorry a leannan. Did I wake ye?”  
“No I was up with Jemmy anyway.”  
“Where’s your mother?”  
“Still in the study, I think she dozed off but I didn’t like to wake her.”  
Bree sat on the edge of the bed beside him and smiled at her father.  
“Do you want to tell me about your dream?”  
Jamie shook his head, sitting up straighter.  
“No, I dinna need to trouble ye wi’ my foolishness.”  
There was little trace of the initial awkwardness between them but his refusal seemed to bring the remnants of it to the surface. Bree studied her bare feet in the candlelight and whether it was the pained look on her face or the need to prove Frank wrong, Jamie cleared his throat and began to tell her.  
“In truth, I was dreamin’ about your ... Frank.”  
“Daddy?”  
Brianna whipped round to face him, eyes wide with shock. Her hand flew to her mouth and she reached out to Jamie, catching his hand in hers.  
“I’m sorry … I didn’t mean … What happened in your dream?”  
“Weel, he wanted to tell me how much he loved ye, and I think to make sure I was taking care of ye.”  
“You are…”  
Brianna hurried but Jamie only smiled and cupped her cheek in his palm.  
“Meeting ye, gettin’ to ken ye properly,”  
Jamie took a steadying breath  
“Ye fill my heart wi’ pride and wi’ joy and I thank God for the chance he has given me.”  
“Oh Da…”  
Brianna blushed furiously at his words and was grateful for the weak light in the room, although she knew he could probably feel her face burning against his hand.  
“Earlier, I heard ye tellin’ wee Jem about his other grandfather and I want ye to ken that I dinna mind.”  
Brianna bit her lip  
“I wanted to tell Jemmy because …”  
She faltered and Jamie drew her close to him, resting his chin on her head.  
“Ye dinna want him forgotten.”  
Brianna relaxed into his arms and allowed her head to rest against his shoulder.  
“There is no one else to remember him. I think it is how Mama felt about you, that feeling that someone should *know* you existed, know who you were.”  
Her voice wavered, but held strong this time and Jamie could hear the core of defiance that ran through her words. She didn’t want to wound him, but she wouldn’t apologise either; she was so like Claire in that way and Jamie hoped Frank had known that too. Brianna was not all him.  
“I ken that fine a leannan, ye dinna need to explain. He raised ye and loved ye in the unconditional way a father should – ye are right to honour his memory.”  
Jamie spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully.  
“I know he isn’t – wasn’t- my real father, but I did love him.”  
She said quietly, stifling a yawn and Jamie nodded, shifting her so that his arms cradled her against him, the solid weight of her leaning against his chest.  
“Love isna dependent on blood.”  
“No it isn’t.”  
Bree murmured as Jamie rubbed small circles between her shoulder blades, and felt her head grow heavier on his shoulder.  
“I love you Da. I really hope you know that.”  
She whispered and Jamie kissed her head in response, too overcome to speak. As Brianna’s breathing grew heavier the candle flickered and danced despite the lack of draft in the room and Jamie hoped that Frank was satisfied for one night at least. Then again, if he had ever got the chance to see Claire and Brianna during all the years of separation, he would have done it. If he had to haunt every dream that Frank Randall ever had he would have done it.  
Love demanded it.


End file.
